I have learned such important lessons about human nature during my work throughout the church, about fear and desire, pain and submission.
One of the most important lessons has been that torture and persuasion is as much in the mind as it is in the body. The key is to demonstrate the horror that awaits, to illustrate it and bring it close to the victim, so the victim can taste death in her mouth, the pain and humiliation and panic flooding her soul.
A very simple technique in persuasion, examination, and the implementation of a long and agonizing death if needed, is that of slow strangulation.
The use of a garrote, while interesting in many ways, seems too quick and mechanical to me. The victim suffers, yes, and dies, certainly, but never have I seen execution by garrote take more than an hour or so. The technique of slow strangulation is most satisfying on a number of levels - in the pain it causes, in the interesting effects on the victim’s body, and most particularly their mind. And of course, the control it gives the examiner.
Slow strangulation is perhaps most effective because the victim can indeed feel death approaching as their body suffers and tries to draw air, slowly losing its life, and then at the whim of the examiner, is allowed to recover for a while.
In Trieste, I employed this technique both to the benefit and delight of a number of dignitaries of the city. The witch was one that had cast spells on a number of men in the town. She was of extraordinary beauty, with dark hair and light smooth skin, perfect lips that formed a pout, and even features that had a distinctly Italian aristocratic look. She was held in a small prison outside of the city center.
When we arrived, we were admitted to her stone cell, where she had been placed with her ankles in stocks. The room had no windows and there were no torches inside, so it was pitch black when the door was closed. There were three women in the stocks with her, one of whom was naked, having been examined, tortured and returned. Our victim was fully clothed in her peasant dress, though I could immediately see by the hatred in her eyes that she was a witch that had been fully seduced by the devil. Encouraging her to speak would be a difficult task, though there was no doubt in my mind that it could and would be done.
She was removed from her stocks, and dragged from her cell by two guards. She spat at them and made a pretense of struggle, though it was useless. She was brought in to a large room where several tables had been set up, with chairs, candles, torches, and even wine, bread and cheese. I had arranged for these when I understood that the examination might take some time.
A leather strap was attached to a rope and flung over a beam above us. Such a simple device, and yet in the right hands, a work of agonizing art.
The woman’s hands were tied behind her, even as she tried to kick and bite us. I resolved that for this impertinence she would pay… before being strung up she was pulled over to a table, and pulled across it on her stomach. I positioned myself behind her, raised her skirt, and lowered my pants. I was ready, though she was not. Not that it mattered. I forced my stiff member in to her and pressed hard until it was all the way in. She was loose, perhaps from having intercourse with the devil in the past. She serviced me now, struggling and providing fine entertainment for me as I expended my lust on her… and inside her.
When I finished, she lay sobbing on the table. I pulled her off, and positioned her under the strap that was fashioned in to a noose. Before she realized what was happening, the noose slipped over her head and around her neck.
We stepped back to view the witch as she stood before us, the noose keeping her in place and her wrists tied behind her.
A basic principle of examining a prison and causing mental anguish is to humiliate. This is most easily accomplished by stripping them of their clothes, and we did this now to the woman that stood before us. Literally ripping her clothes off, destroying them in the process, we slowly removed the woman’s dignity and modesty. By ripping the clothes off in this manner, it is reinforced that the victim is helpless, that their former protections are being shredded never to return, and that they are subject to our mercy… or cruelty.
As her body was slowly exposed, I became more appreciative of what I had just pleasured myself with. It was a fine body, muscular but young, smooth and shapely with firm breasts that did not sag. As we removed the last of her clothing, red welts appeared on her skin from where we had jerked and yanked the cloth of her clothes. These enhanced her beauty, as they contrasted with her light smooth skin. The hair in her private area was dark and thick, but smooth and lay flat as the hair on her head.
We sat in chairs, and took some wine for a moment as she stood in front of us, struggling slightly and testing the ropes. Her struggles were lovely to observe in the flickering yellow light of the torches, which emphasized her womanly features.
When a little time had passed and her fear subsided some, I decided it was time to apply the beginning of the torture. With a slow steady movement, I pulled on the rope and the strap began to tighten on her neck. She followed the strap as it rose, straightening, straining, finally rising on her toes. Her breathing became slightly more labored as I stopped for a moment to allow her to understand and feel what was happening to her body. Her struggle to breathe was successful, but it was truly a struggle. With effort, she was able to take breaths, fill her lungs, raising her breasts up in such a lovely manner.
I pulled a few more inches, and the strap tightened further around her neck. Her head turned sideways, forced by the pressure of the strap as it began to lift her off her toes. I stopped just as her toes were about to leave the ground. They still touched the dirt below her, but were only able to provide a minimal amount of support. The vast majority of her weight was now straining against the strap that surrounded her neck.
A lovely gurgling noise was emitted from her mouth, which had opened wide for a moment. Her eyes squeeze shut, and I could tell she was attempting to scream, but could not. Her head was turning red, and then purple as the blood flow was restricted. Her toes reached and strained to press against the ground, sliding slightly in the dirt, looking for a way to support herself.
After a minute or so, I let her descend so that she could support more of her weight on her toes. Her breathing came in ragged, hoarse jerks which were accompanied by spams of her lovely stomach as her diaphragm worked to suck air in to her lungs.
I lowered her a bit more, and was rewarded by cries, tears and sobs from this unfortunate victim of the devil. The impact of this procedure on her mind now became clear. The restriction of breathing and the tight strangulation of the neck invoked severe panic and fear. It was an animal, primal reaction as she felt her life slipping away from her, unable to do anything to stop the blackness as her life’s blood was squeezed from her head.
The recovery was sufficient and she was raised again until she could no longer touch the ground. Her legs started thrashing as if looking for something to stand upon, but found nothing. Her entire body convulsed as the struggle to breathe made her stomach and chest heave, and her breasts moved with a subtle but enticing bounce. She lost control of her bladder, and fluid streamed down her leg and on to the ground below her.
Her tongue protruded from her mouth, slightly. I believe it was the pressure of the noose on her neck that forced this out. Her face was a dark purple, and was turning darker at each moment. In spite of her paniced attempts, she could not breath. Her eyes were large, no longer focused, and bulging slightly from her head.
I lowered her once again, until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. She breathed a loud rasping gasp, and shook violently.
As she had been kicking in the air, legs moving all about, I had noticed that I had become aroused once again. It suddenly struck me that this witch was casting a spell on me, and that my arousal was her attempt to seduce me and thus save herself. In fact, I realized my earlier violation of her body had been the result of her bewitching ways. I became angry at this attack, and decided to punish her further.
When I had examined the prison facilities earlier, I had observed a rather ingenious and insidious device. They were metal shoes, which included spikes attached to the sole. Holes in the sole allowed the spike to intrude through the metal and in to the heels of the unfortunate wearer. The idea was that as long as the wearer stood upon their toes, their toes would smash against the metal shoe, providing some level of discomfort and strain. But, if the wearer released their stance and sank down upon their feet, their weight would press the spikes deep within their flesh, causing severe pain. As a simple torture device, it was interesting… but as an adjunct to the victims suffering while being slowly strangled, it was almost artistic in its presentation of pain, enhancement of agony, and destruction of the mind.
The metal shoes were brought, and I raised the noose, pulling the witch off the ground once again. The shoes were placed on her feet with some effort (they were too small), and then chained in place. As the woman’s gagging and struggles began to reach desperation once again, I lowered her down. Her stretched body looked lovely in the red glow of the torches, and her metal-clad feet reached the floor, providing some relief.
The witch was crying, probably to gain some sympathy which I was determined not to show. She had already seduced me once, and I was determined not to allow it to happen again.
As I lowered the rope further, her feet leveled and her heels came down to the ground. The spikes thrust up and in to her heels, and a scream echoed against the stone walls of the chamber. Her hold on me strengthened, my member erect and desiring her - she was trying to free herself by throwing her most powerful spell against me, and I could not resist stroking myself, so strong was her spell as she screamed and struggled back to her toes.
For the next two hours, she was raised up, strangling by the weight of her body, sometimes able to draw some breath, sometimes unable. Several times she fainted, ceasing all struggles. Lowering her down to the floor and throwing scalding water on her revived her quickly. During this time she alternated between various states of agony. She was either dangling, feeling death approach with the ligature digging in to her neck, or was standing on her toes, straining her legs and thighs to keep from lowering on to the spikes, or when her muscles exhausted, she sank down and accepted that agony of the heel spikes as they penetrated a full inch in to her foot.
After several hours of observing her agony and playing with her to maximize her pain, she began to grow listless, less able to struggle and support herself. The extended periods of strangulation were taking their toll on her, and she was loosing the will and energy to survive. Her body was limp, and shiny in the flickering light from the sweat that had poured from her. Her tongue was constantly protruding from her mouth and eyes had a dull look.
It was time.
Her metal torture shoes were removed, and I lowered her. Cold water was splashed on her. She was allowed to breathe through her damaged neck for several minutes. Finally, I pulled the rope up and she ascended several feet in the air. She kicked. Her chest and stomach flexed. Her breasts bounced. Her convulsions slowed, and became less violent. Her eyes stared at nothing.
I finished the wine to refresh myself, walked over to the witches body, and ejaculated on her, to symbolize that she could no longer seduce me, or any other innocent man. Her body slowly turned back and forth as I left the chamber, ready for a rest from my strenuous day of work.